Quest of a Scottish Warrior

by Sky Purington

  Scary thought but she was too curious for her own good and after all, she only told Grant so he must trust this guy…she hoped. “That’s right.”

  “Another time, cousin.” Machara patted Rònan’s stomach as though he didn’t possess washboard abs but a pot belly. “Meanwhile, she stays with me. The Laird will have it no other way.”

  “So Logan asked you to keep Cassie by your side?” Niall drawled, clearly not convinced.

  “Aye. Can ye believe it?” Machara winked. “His number one enemy.”

  Truth be told, though eager to escape with Machara she was sorely tempted to follow the devil Rònan to the mighty oak.

  “Och, lassie.” Machara shook her head. “I’ll not see ye tempted by the MacLeod just yet.” She pulled Cassie after her. “Enjoy yer eve, lads. Find yerselves another lass’s skirt to wander beneath, aye?”

  Cassie waved over her shoulder at Darach before Machara pulled her into the crowd and away from the men.

  “I’m not sure if I should thank you or not,” she muttered as the Scotswoman released her hand and they walked over the drawbridge. “I was super curious about the oak.”

  “Aye, we all are at one time or another.” Machara shook her head. “But Rònan never tells all. At least not beyond what we already know.”

  “And what exactly is that?” Cassie asked.

  “That the oak was born of a dragon. Rònan’s Ma, Torra. And that the tree watches over the MacLomain clan to this day.”

  “Excuse me?” Cassie avoided a bunch of girls scampering over the bridge and did her best to keep her eyes from the wall Logan had her against earlier. “A dragon?”

  “Aye.” Machara looked at her as though she was born yesterday. “Half dragon anyway. Just like Rònan.”

  Cassie almost questioned whether dragons actually existed but figured that would be pretty redundant considering she had traveled back in time and that wizards seemingly existed.

  “Listen, if it’s okay I’d rather head back to my chamber,” Cassie said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “Really?” Machara eyed her. “The celebrations are in full swing.”

  “Yes, really,” she confirmed. “But thanks so much for everything you’ve done for me.” Machara really had done a lot for Cassie. She had been very thorough showing her around and made her feel welcome. “I’m sorry. I’m just overtired.”

  While the tall, thin brunette was not necessarily made of warm moments, she nodded and her face softened. “Fine then, lass. I’ll make sure ye get to yer chamber safely.”

  She nodded, grateful Machara left it at that.

  As it turned out, Logan became caught up in clan business and did not leave the next day or even the following one. Though Grant, Machara and Darach kept her entertained, she was always hoping for a glance of the MacLomain Laird. Occasionally he checked in on her, but the moments were fleeting. Niall and Rònan flirted when they got the chance, but Machara was fiercely protective, claiming Cassie deserved time to learn her way around without dealing with their lusting.

  On her third night in medieval Scotland, Cassie looked out the window of her chamber, thankful she was here and not down there. Summer solstice was definitely a big deal around here and the crowd was rowdy. Partying had never been her thing so she was happy enough tucked away with a fire crackling and a tray of assorted foods on the table.

  She liked solitude.

  Almost as much as history and ancestry.

  While not overly hungry, she still sampled the variety of foods. Bannock, a type of bread. Various seafoods including scallops and shrimp. Delicious cheeses. She didn’t drink the whisky provided because it seemed foolish to dull her senses in a fairly unfamiliar place.

  Eventually, she grew restless and decided to explore the upper level of the castle. Traveling the torch-lit corridor, she walked out onto the first wall walk she came to. It was relatively quiet, the sound of celebrating carried away by the wind. The lilt of bagpipes a faint echo off the castle walls. She liked it. A place less confined by stone but open to the sky.

  Hands braced on the battlement, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes and smiled. A temperate breeze blew her hair. The rock beneath her fingertips was rough in some areas and smooth in others. As if generations of hands and perhaps even weapons had rested upon it. The scents here were different. So free of modern day. She inhaled deeply, focusing on each little smell. The torch smoke, salt off the loch, grass, and even wildflowers.

  “Ya ves, con todos sus sentidos. You see with all of your senses.”

  Her heart leapt with excitement at the sound of Logan's quiet voice. She kept her eyes closed and smiled. “So you did learn something from Handy Manny.”

  “Sí, él me enseñó mucho. Entonces hice un punto de aprender español después. Es una lengua hermosa e importante. Yes, he taught me a lot. Then I made a point of learning Spanish afterward. ‘Tis a beautiful and important language.”

  “So is Scottish Gaelic.” She opened her eyes to find him leaning against the battlement beside her.

  “Not so much anymore,” he replied, eyes on the celebrations below. “Or should I say, not so much in the future we both know is coming.”

  Though tempted to say the particular brand of Scots Gaelic he spoke or even Gaelic in general, would become a world language, they both knew that’d be a lie. So she said, “The minute you stop speaking your native tongue, it dies with you.”

  That was more intense than she intended, but it was true.

  “I know,” he murmured, eyes still on his clan. “But to my way of thinking, learning to expand my language will keep my native tongue alive one way or another.” His eyes went to hers, shadowed by the torch burning over his shoulder. “How else will I teach future Spanish speaking generations Gaelic?”

  Cassie crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you seriously worried about what will happen to the Gaelic language seven hundred years from now?”

  His eyes lingered on hers for a few long moments before returning to the crowds below. “Nay, lass, I’m worried about what will become of my clan.”

  Though she knew a great deal about the Brouns, she knew nothing about the MacLomains. She could not remember them coming up in any of the research she had done.

  As if reading her thoughts, Logan said, “Our clan will change over the next couple hundred years. We will become known as the Lamonts. Still, we will be connected with the Brouns.” His eyes met hers. “Because of the centuries in which we currently live and those that are behind us.”

  “Lamont? As in the Lamonts slaughtered in the Dunoon Massacre in 1646?”

  “Aye.” He shook his head. “‘Tis a poor piece of history that is.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered, sick to her stomach.

  “You know your Scottish history well,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But it's hard to imagine your clan name becomes Lamont.”

  “Aye,” he said. “From Mac Laomainn, or Lauman and then Lamont as it becomes known in a few hundred more years. In this era, we were actually called MacLomain. They never did spell it right in the history books, but one thing withstood the ages.”

  “What's that?”

  “The connection.” His eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “Betwixt your clan and mine. The Brouns and the MacLomains, more easily researched if you look up Lamont. The Brouns and Lamonts have been septs of one another’s for ages. Forever tied together. But little of either clan’s history was recorded accurately for hundreds upon hundreds of years.”

  “How can you talk about all of this so loosely?” Her eyes burned as she looked at him. “I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling knowing that this…” She looked at the people celebrating below, her mind less on their clans' connection but the massacre on the distant horizon. “That this will all be wiped out…”

  “Everything changes. ‘Tis part of life.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “For now, we still thrive and have the ability to help make changes, on
es that can see the future of Scotland better than it might have been.”

  “But we both already know the future of Scotland,” she murmured, appalled to say it but unable to stop. “And she’s under the rule of England.”

  “The United Kingdom,” he conceded. “Is where we are for now.” Then she swore she heard him whisper, “But mayhap not forever,” before he said, “And our economy in the future fares well, does it not? So all is not so bad.”

  “No, not bad,” she agreed, baffled that she was having a conversation with a thirteenth century Scotsman about twenty-first century Scottish economics. And, as usual, though she should tread carefully, her big mouth just spit out what she was thinking. “Scotland is rich in natural resources. Tidal, wind and wave energy as well as oil in the North Sea. Fish stocks, agricultural output, and thriving tourism. The list is pretty lengthy. A country that might be better off in charge of its own resources wouldn’t you say?”

  “You’re well-educated about this country in both the present and the future.”

  “As are you and I’d bet far better than me.”

  “It would only make sense.” His eyes returned to the crowds below. “Because somehow I need to make sure my clan survives its own history.”

  How though considering the massacre? Then again, hundreds might have died that frightful day but certainly not all. The gene had survived. The MacLomains still lived in the twenty-first century…didn’t they? Maybe under the name Lamont but still, that was something…everything.

  “I understand,” she said not sure what else she should say. What she wanted to say was that it would all be okay, everything would work out, Scotland would be its own country. But they both knew that wasn’t true.

  She almost closed her eyes when his hand rested over hers on the battlement. Yet he was not being romantic. “I know what will happen to my country but I also know what it will take to get her there and it needs to happen.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “So you’re determined to get this country to its current future?”

  “Aye.” He inhaled as though he smelled something refreshing. “Though you might wish for an independent Scotland in the future, I must focus on what will get her to the point that she even has that as a possible goal.”

  Cassie shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  Though it seemed for a minute he was going to stop talking, he exhaled and spoke as if he needed to share. “My cousins and I will make sure King Robert the Bruce has his wits about him when he becomes an adult, when challenges are laid before him.”

  Robert the Bruce? She made to speak, but the words died on her lips. So she tried again. “As in the King of Scotland?” But even that came out as a weak squeak.

  “The one and only,” he replied, sounding very modern before he once more sounded ancient. “I dinnae know quite how but ‘tis part of my destiny…‘tis part of my cousins' destinies.”

  What had she been plunked into? This was insane. But so was everything else that was part of her current set of circumstances. “If I remember correctly he was born in the late thirteenth century. What year is it now?”

  “‘Tis 1281. The Bruce is only seven winters old.”

  Cassie was overly aware that he had not removed his hand from hers. “So when are you and your cousins supposed to help him?”

  “Soon.” His eyes met hers. “‘Tis said that we would assist him when he was a bairn.”

  “Oh.” Interesting. And definitely not recorded in any history books. “So how exactly are you supposed to do that?”

  “I dinnae know yet.” He shrugged. “But there cannae be any doubt that he will need us.”

  The idea that the future King of Scotland would somehow be protected by wizards and even a dragon-shifter was pretty darn mind-blowing. “Where is he now?”

  “Being fostered by a family well north of Ayrshire.” He at last pulled his hand away. “‘Tis best for him to be raised around those that willnae show him favoritism so that he might grow up strong.”

  “I see.” She frowned. “Sort of sad, though. His mother must miss him.”

  “She does.” Logan leaned back against the battlement, crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her. “You shouldnae be out here alone, lass.”

  While she would like nothing more than to grill him about the King, she got the sense he needed a break from heavy conversation so she kept it light.

  “You’re only now chastising me about being out here alone?” she teased.

  A small smile curled his lips. “I had to eventually.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didnae want you left alone.” She swore he shifted closer. “Yet here you are.”

  “I just needed some air.” Was he flirting? It almost seemed like it even though she was being reprimanded. “It was so peaceful out here. And free of people."

  “I’ve men stationed on this wall walk,” he enlightened. “The only reason you dinnae see them is because I’m here.”

  “And why are you here?” She quirked her lip. “Shouldn’t you be mingling with your clan and getting ready for your journey...whenever that is?”

  She almost wished she hadn’t said it because his body tensed. But it was probably best she reminded them both that he had somewhere else to be. More so, someone else to be with. Because there was some serious heat fluctuating between them and she knew it wasn’t just her imagination.

  “I enjoy time spent alone when given the opportunity, which is rarer and rarer lately,” he said. “It gives me time to think and plan.”

  “I get that.” She nodded. While she should probably leave it alone, she had been curious for days and was now given an opportunity. “So why did Grant and Darach seem so concerned about you going to get your betrothed?”

  “They worry overmuch.” A flicker of discomfort crossed his face before his expression smoothed. “The times are perilous.”

  “Without a doubt.” She narrowed her eyes. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

  He considered her for a long moment before he sighed. “There are some who would not see Aline and I married. That dinnae want the connection betwixt our clans strengthened.”

  “I understand...I think,” she said. “So both of you traveling together are double the target?”

  “Something like that. However ‘tis for the best that I escort her here and sooner rather than later.” He clenched his jaw. “Things are only becoming more dangerous.”

  There was a strange edge to the way he said those last few words, the way his eyes suddenly locked with hers. She knew in that riveting moment that the danger he referred to did not entirely have to do with the current state of his homeland. While Cassie thought he had barely noticed her over the past few days, she could see in his eyes that she had been dead wrong.

  “Then you should go,” she said softly, trying to unravel from the overflow of emotions wrapping around her. “But stay safe.”

  “I will,” he murmured, so close now that their arms nearly touched. Then, almost as if he didn’t mean to but could not help it, he said, “Tell me about yourself, Cassie.”

  She could smell the light spice of his skin and all but feel the burning heat in his eyes.

  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she whispered.

  “You’re my guest.” His voice was gentle yet inquisitive. “So know that I only ask as a curious chieftain…and hopefully someday a friend.”

  He knew as well as she did that they were playing with fire. Friendship was not on either of their minds. Or maybe this was one sided. Maybe she really was imagining the strong attraction between them. But she didn’t think so. She had never felt anything like this. On the other hand, she didn’t have a lot of experience to go off of.

  So though she knew she should leave it alone, she figured sharing a little wouldn’t hurt. “I was born in upstate Maine but more recently moved to the coast.” She shrugged. “I d
id the whole college thing but never really settled on a major I enjoyed so it was sort of a waste of time and money. Though I love history, I never went for a degree in it but instead ended up fascinated by ancestry. That’s when I decided to create an ancestry website. It’s no ancestry.com, but I’ve done okay with it and really enjoy running it.”

  “So you have some experience with software engineering then?”

  Again, weird that he even knew to ask that question. “Enough.” She shrugged a shoulder and eyed the bonfires. “One of those majors I never saw through. I ended up hiring a small team to help me launch and maintain the site.”

  “What made you so interested in ancestry?” he asked. “Enough to devote so much work to it?”

  “I just think it’s fascinating.” Definitely not the reason she pursued it. “Everyone should try to reconnect with their family history. You can learn so much.” Now that edged a little closer to her reasons for launching the site.

  “You forget I’m a wizard,” he murmured.

  Her eyes went to his, confused.

  “You give me little truth.” He took her hand and ran his forefinger lightly over the vein on the underside of her wrist. Her knees almost buckled as shivers ran through her and gooseflesh spread over her skin. “I dinnae need to touch this to feel your unsteady heartbeat. A telltale sign of nervousness caused by possible deceit.”

  Before she could respond, he continued. “I dinnae want you to feel as if you need to give me all your truths but know I’m always here if you want to share them, aye?”

  He meant it. She knew he did. Still, it made her chest burn and throat tighten so she offered no response. God, would it be nice to share, to release all her pent up feelings about what life had dealt her. How scared and lonely she really was.

  Could they become friends? Hands down, yes. But would his wife be all right with that? Better yet, would Cassie knowing full well that she was so attracted to him?

  “No,” she murmured, not entirely sure what she was saying no to. Her eyes drifted down to his hand still locked around her wrist and she shook her head, trembling. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nay, ye dinnae ken,” he whispered, brogue thickening. “Or mayhap I dinnae.”